


Not Quite Crystalline

by Spiritmoon23



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, amelia is done with ur shit ivan, he is not a soft boi, in the 1960s, ladies ftw, soviet russia is not the same as modern or imperial russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:33:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiritmoon23/pseuds/Spiritmoon23
Summary: America is in a state of complete unrest. Martin Luther King Jr and Robert Kennedy have both been assassinated, the war in Vietnam is now held in an unfavorable light by the people, McCarthyism is born, there are violent nationwide protests, and the elections ended in only a .7% difference between Nixon and his opponent. And to top it all off, tensions with the Soviet Union are rising evermore.





	Not Quite Crystalline

**Author's Note:**

> part of the 2017 Rusame Secret Santa event on Tumblr

November 10, 1968

\--

Amelia sat at the table; back straight, hair pulled back tightly in a militaristic and professional up-do, and holding a pencil in her left hand to take notes. She hardly moved, seemingly a statue made of stone. Every so often, her shoulders would tense and she'd twitch, before going back to normal as though nothing happened. And no one seemed to notice.

No one, of course, except her most notable adversary, whose personal job it was to watch her every move through the duration of their interactions, direct or otherwise, for information. That was his given task, anyway. He had his own, ulterior reasons for following through with it as well.

Amethyst eyes traced her figure, lingering on her notes at times and her face at others as he came to them. He wasn't paying any attention to the negotiations, as was not his mission nor in his interest. Soviet wasn't keeping track of time, even though he probably should have been. So, the conclusion of the meeting was signaled, and representatives from the other countries were already leaving.

America stayed behind, just as she always did, with her perfect smile and charismatic speech, offering aid and protection to those dangerously close to him, as well as reassurance to her allies that felt threatened by him. Of course, it was always protecting someone from some evil. Always, always, always. 

The others departed, the chatter ceased, and soon it was her, standing with her back to him, and he, still sitting in his chair, Soviet Union displayed on the note card prominently. She was the first to speak. "Why haven't you left yet, Soviet?" She turned to face him, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. "Hell, Braginsky, why were you even here today? You didn't pay any attention to what was going on, and no one wants to be in the same room with you."

He let a small, childish giggle escape him, and he leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. His chin rested on his entwined fingers, and he gazed at her. "I came here for you, of course. Why else would I sit in this place with these insufferable, inferior land masses?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe for the sake of diplomacy and to maybe not engage in an altercation that would end all life on earth?" She crossed her arms across her chest, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "That's what I'm here for."

"Well, I am not you, am I? And from what I hear, there's quite a few of your people who think that a war of nuclear proportions wouldn't be such a bad thing."

America grumbled something under her breath, too far away for him to hear. "He lost in the election. 13 percent."

Soviet waved his hand dismissively. "It does not matter how little of him is there, so long as it's there. And," he continued, getting up from his chair slowly, approaching her. "I hear there's quite a lot that's happened in your country lately. Must be hard, being a superpower that's falling apart from the inside. Not to mention you're a woman." America twitched again, and her eyes flashed, but he spoke again before she could get a word in. "I think you should probably leave the, how did you say, diplomacy, to the men, yes?"

"I'll have you know that my given sex is not reflective of performance, for me as a nation, nor for any mortal woman," she growled out, stepping into arm's reach of him. "I have my own personal strength, Soviet. Tread this line very carefully."

He bent over, bringing them eye to eye and smirking in a mocking manner. "Oh, is the little girl mad? Pity. I thought that the bra-burners were supposed to be peaceful."

Her shoulders tensed again, she bared her teeth, and swung full force at his face, hitting him square in the jaw and knocking him a few steps backwards. The hit would have killed a normal man, but that he was not. Soviet caught his balance, holding a hand to his already bruising cheek.

America was already gathering her notes to leave when he looked at her again. She paid no mind to her papers, creasing all of them as she shoved them into the case she had brought with her. America approached him one last time before she left, getting in his face to sneer at him. "This woman is not made of glass. She is a nation of diamond. And I'll not have you talking down to me, got it?"

She grabbed a handful of his scarf, pushing their mouths together roughly, tasting the blood from his mouth. Then she pushed him back, back onto the floor, and stormed out of the room.


End file.
